There and Back Again
by k123
Summary: Inception drabbles. 1. She is Mal in all the ways that don't matter. 2. A person is more than their projection.
1. Chapter 1

She has Mal's face and eyes, her smile, her accent, her turn of phrase. She has Mal's body, her gestures, her walk, her hairstyle, and fashion sense.

She doesn't have Mal's grace, the mischievous glint that Mal would get in her eyes, her laugh, her words.

She has Mal's hatred, but not her love. Her anger, her ruthlessness, but not her mercy, not her joy.

She is Mal in all the ways that don't matter.

Mal was lovely – bright, larger than life, unthinkingly cruel at times, unstintingly generous at others. She was witty, and smart, and so, so selfish. She liked to be spoiled, and believed she should always have what she wanted. But she also believed that the people she loved should always have what they wanted. It was impossible, after meeting Mal, not to fall a little bit in love.

This Mal, this projection, she only lives for vengeance and punishment. She exists because Dom hates himself now, and believes that Mal should too.

Mal lived for laughter, for knowledge, sometimes for spite, but mostly for love. She lived for Dom, for the game, for Philippa, for the con, for James, for the hell of it. She lived. Until she didn't.


	2. Chapter 2

Dom's projection of Mal is the first one that Ariadne meets, but she's not the only one.

Arthur's Mal is much nicer than Dom's, although she's a total _bitch_.

"Look over there _ma petite_," Mal exclaims, laying her hand on Ariadne's arm, and pointing to someone across the street. "Aren't her shoes _dreadful_?"

Ariadne stifles a giggle, because the shoes on the projection Mal is gesturing towards really are awful.

"You'd think someone like Arthur would give his projections better fashion sense," she comments to Mal. "Considering the way he dresses."

"Oh," Mal says, sounding absolutely delighted. "You have no idea what he used to look like, back when I first met him. He dressed _terribly_." Mal lowers her voice a little and leans in, as if about to impart a dreadful secret. "Those shoes are actually an improvement."

"You realize that I can hear you, don't you?" Arthur remarks from where he's standing a few feet away, raising an eyebrow at them.

"Oh Arthur, _cherie_, knowing you can hear us is half the fun," Mal smiles beautifully at him, and Ariadne feels her breath catch. If this is the real Mal, she can see why Dom loved her so much.

Arthur ignores her, looking at Ariadne. "It's not good," he says, "to interact with projections too much. Not only does it blur the lines between reality and dreams, but it also makes it more likely for the projection to realize you don't belong here."

Ariadne rolls her eyes. "Look at her Arthur," she says, gesturing to where Mal is window shopping in a store that Ariadne built. "That Mal is not going to stab me like Dom's Mal."

Arthur is quiet for a moment. "Ariadne," he says gravely, "You understand, don't you, that while Dom's Mal is insane and obsessive, with an incessant need to ruin everything about Dom's life, she is still somewhat Mal. And what you might not know is that we were all recruited from different military programs. Mal was a master of Torture and Interrogation." His lips twitch wryly for a moment, hands smoothing over his pants, lingering on his knee. "She knows how to cause maximum pain while keeping you alive."

Ariadne glances back over at Mal, who is twirling along the street, interacting brightly with all the other projections.

"But she's," Ariadne starts, before stopping, and frowning. "She's funny and smart, and really bitchy," Ariadne says, smiling slightly at Arthur. "She's…lovely."

"Yes," Arthur agrees quietly. "She is. But she's also my version of Mal and she loves me." He sighs. "If you want to see what she's like when she doesn't trust you, go check out Eames' subconscious."

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Eames laughs uproariously when Ariadne asks to meet his projection of Mal.

"Be carefully Ariadne," he advises, "or we might start to think you're getting as obsessive as our fearless leader over there."

Ariadne frowns at him. "I just want to know her," she says. "Is that so terrible?"

Eames stares calculatingly at her for a minute before abruptly saying, "Fine. To the PASIV we go then."

They hook in, and Eames subconscious takes them to a standard mall that could be anywhere. "Why a mall?" Ariadne asks, looking at him curiously.

Eames shrugs. "I like to shop." Ariadne eyes him, and the eye searing outfit he is wearing today.

"What," Eames says defensively. "You think it's easy to put this many colors together and still look this good?"

Ariadne wisely chooses not to comment, and instead starts looking around for Mal. It doesn't take long to find her, or, to be more accurate, for her to find them.

"Why Eames," Mal purrs dangerously from behind him. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Well you know me Mal," Eames replies with a fake smile. "I'm a shopoholic."

"I'm sure," Mal murmurs, before focusing her gaze on Ariadne. "And who's this, a new girlfriend?" Mal smiles sharply, "Does Arthur know?"

Ariadne might be more interested in Mal's comments, if she wasn't so busy cataloguing all the differences between this Mal and the others. This one is more aware of her surroundings, walking on the balls of her feet, as if ready to lash out at any moment. Her eyes flick over both of them, cataloguing potential weaknesses and hidden weapons. Ariadne has never felt so exposed.

Dom's Mal had been a passionate and obsessive woman, who cared only about Dom and Dom's death.

Arthur's Mal had been a laughing, lovely girl, with opinions and comments about everything. Actually, Ariadne thinks, looking back, that Mal had noticed everything too, she just hadn't projected the air of menace that this one did.

This Mal was all sharp edges and danger. Ariadne sees, looking at her, that master of torture and interrogation Arthur had alluded to.

"I've seen enough," Ariadne tells Eames. "Let's go."

Eames gives her a considering look and then shrugs philosophically. "If that's what you want." He smiles brightly back at Mal, a hint of pain in his eyes. "See you around then."

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Ariadne doesn't know exactly what to expect when she goes under by herself later, but she did anticipate being met by some sort of Mal, and she's not wrong.

"Well?" Ariadne's Mal asks, raising an eyebrow. "How do I measure up, _ma petite_?"

She's exquisitely dressed, but then, all of the Mal's she's met have had good fashion sense. She stands relaxed, but Ariadne knows there's a gun on a leg sheath under her dress, and her hair pins are sharp enough to stab.

Ariadne looks at her for a long moment. "I wouldn't know," she says softly.

"But you want to, don't you," Mal responds, walking towards her. "That's the problem isn't it?"

Ariadne thinks of Dom's obsession, of his Mal's love and conviction, she thinks of Arthur's grief, of his Mal's smiles and liveliness, she thinks of Eames' regret, of his Mal's watchfulness and competence.

She thinks of Mal as a whole, as a woman who had known how to laugh and how to kill, who had known how to love, but had never seemed to grasp how to let go. She thinks of a Mal she will never meet, of one she will never know except in echoes.

"Yes," Ariadne says quietly. "That's the problem."


End file.
